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My father clears his throat from the back of the room. When we both turn to look at him, he wears an impossible-to-decipher look on his face. “Howard, I’ll be honest, you aren’t the kind of guy I thought my daughter would date. I thought she’d find a nice boy in college or something. I didn’t expect her to get involved with some motorcycle-riding thug.”
“Hey!” I chastise.
Marcus presses on. “But your buddies seemed real nice back there. A little predatory, but I’m guessing that you told them about our fight.”
Holy nods and looks at me to explain. “Saint is my emergency contact. When we got brought in, the hospital called him. He and some of the guys headed right over.” Best friends. They’re something else. “They showed up about an hour after my fight with your dad and have been waiting around ever since. Saint kept pestering the nurse for updates about you,” he says with a grin. Leave it to the man that hated me in the beginning to be my biggest cheerleader.
“As I was saying,” my dad interrupts, “you all seem nicer than I thought you’d be. Less leather and gangster.”
“That’s because they’re a club, Dad, not a gang.”
He smiles softly at me. “Nevertheless. There’s a lot that the three of us need to talk about, but for now, you have my blessing. As long as you continue to keep your relationship under wraps until the school year ends,” he stipulates.
I don’t know when I started crying, but tears are spilling down my cheeks. I can’t believe it took an accident to get us here. “Thank you, Daddy.” All I’ve wanted since this all began was his approval.
And now we have it.
35
DANIELLE
Being young means compromising.
Compromising who you want to be with the person that your parents expect you to become. It is a seemingly impossible balancing act trying to be the obedient daughter your parents want and the free spirit you feel like you could be if you spread your wings. It leaves a mark on your soul when you can't be yourself, a mark that you'll look back on for the rest of your life.
But I'm one of the lucky ones.
My father expected me to become a teacher. He wanted me to help kids by helping them get a proper education. He wanted good things for me, like a safe man with a good heart.
But when I told him I wanted to become a social worker, he was okay with that, too. When I told him I was going to go to K-State so I could be close to friends and family while raising my baby, he couldn't have been happier. When I told him that Holy and I were going to get married, he asked to walk me down the aisle.
My father has had expectations for me since I was born, but he has tempered those expectations with reality. I am not the woman he thought I would be; I am so much better.
"It's a good thing you live nearby," Marcus's face twists into a scowl as he heaves another box into the bed of Holy's pick-up truck. He wipes his aching hands on his jeans and steps back, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I'm going to need some serious grandson time to make up for this loss."
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. "Dad, please. It isn't like you're going to be alone. Rose has wanted to go to K-State since she toured the campus at fifteen."
He sniffs and shakes his head. "It's not the same. I'm losing my baby girl." Dad drops the box on the ground and comes over to hug me. His beard is scratchy against my cheek, and his arms are strong as they wrap around me. He holds me as if I'm going off to war.
"Oh, god," I groan at him, "you aren't losing me. I'm literally moving five minutes away. I'm going to be in town. I can still come over for dinner every night if youreallywant me to."
He pulls away dramatically and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Do you mean that? Because I'd love to have you come back for dinner tonight. I'm thinking ribs on the grill."
Holy snorts as he grabs the box my father just dropped and loads it into the truck. "We're having HuHot for dinner, Mr. Fulton. You should come with us," he invites.
Marcus slowly pivots to face Holy, a man only a decade younger than he. His brow knits, and his jaw clamps tight as he glares at my fiancé. "HuHot is going to give Danielle acid reflux," he chastises.
"Hey, don't look at me," Holy defends himself by throwing his hands in the air. "She's the one that asked to go."
I rub my growing belly for sympathy and push my bottom lip into a pout. "Guys, this might be the last chance I have to get HuHot before the baby is born."
Holy shakes his head. "She's been using that excuse for a month now. Ever since she passed thirty-two weeks," he says with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "Don't listen to her."
"But it's true," I whine. "The doctor said he could be born any day."
"I hope he is," Holy grins, "it'll give you more time to rest before classes start in August. If you keep him in until the end of July, you’ll only have three weeks to recover. Maybe four."
That seems like plenty, but all the baby books say six weeks or more are ideal. "Regardless," I ignore Holy, "I think we deserve HuHot after a day like today. It's hot and gross, and I don't want to cook."
